Be Yourself
by The Sushi Monster
Summary: AU 02: To Be Yourself is all that you can do. TO BE REWRITTEN.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Me no owning Digimon. I also don't own Be Yourself by Audio Slave. I adore that song! The lyrics in bold and at the beginning of the chapters are from the song.

Please let me know if I should raise the rating. Nothing will get worse than this, but it may be rated M. There is some romance, but you'll only see one couple this chapter.

This will be dark. There's heavy language, drugs and alcohol, and some mention of suicide and prior death.

Oh, and lots of depression.

Enjoy!

**EDIT: The lyrics were taken out. Please read next chapter for further info.**

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**/Eleven O'clock, Friday Night/**

_If anything, fly towards the damn sun._

_If nothing, fly towards the damn moon._

_And if everything, fly towards the fucking light._

He repeated the mantra within his head countless times, never understanding where the chant had originated in the first place.

His head was lying on his soft pillow, and he was spread out between his sheets. The windows and doors were closed, and the only light came from the crack below the doorway. His computer screen was blank, but the monitor's monotonous drone echoed throughout the darkened room. It was mainly silent, but the muffled sniffles were clear against the calm and quiet background.

His eyes were red, and his pillow was damp. The sheets were wrapped tightly around him, and his arms were embracing them. He looked cold, yet his body emitted heat.

He wanted to break down again. He wanted to yell and scream. He wanted to hit something, _someone_.

He couldn't.

Being kind couldn't have been a blessing.

It was a curse.

And it was plaguing him.

He wanted to screech. He didn't know at whom, or why, but he knew he wanted to.

He knew he had to.

But instead, he broke apart.

He fell apart by himself.

Falling to pieces, Ken Ichijouji cried.

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She knew that it was wrong.

She didn't give a damn.

Her mascara was smeared all around her face.

She didn't give a damn.

The bottle stared at her, inciting her.

She didn't give a damn.

He was calling her, since the ring tone played their special song.

She didn't give a damn.

Her head was exploding in pain and in suffering.

She didn't give a damn.

She swallowed them down, and her throat burned.

She didn't give a damn.

Her stomach churned, both in guilt and in nausea.

She didn't give a damn.

She felt like dying.

She knew she was going to.

And yet, Sora Takenouchi still didn't give a damn.

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Ken bit his lip.

"No."

He whispered the word quietly, and calmly.

He was leaning against the wall, his top bunk beneath him. He was curled into a ball, his pillow squeezed into him.

His eyes stared, unmoving and unblinking, at the whitewashed door. The harsh raps of his friend still protruded into his room, but he ignored them.

"Please Ken! Please let me in! I want to _help_!"

"No."

It was all he would say.

It was all he had said the entire day.

After trying desperately to get him out to eat, Ken's parents had called Daisuke to try and convince him to leave his room.

They were beginning to worry.

They heard his sobs every night.

They heard his restless nightmares every night.

They heard his moans every night.

And it frightened the hell out of them.

They wanted their baby Ken back.

And Daisuke wanted to help.

He wanted his best friend back.

He wanted the smart intellectual who always cared, back.

He wanted Ken to be Ken.

"Ken…_please_."

Only silence was the response.

"Please Ken. Just stop. Stop trying to be something you know you can't be." Daisuke slid down the door, his back against it, and his hands in his face. "You can't be that Ken." He turned, abruptly, and started beating his fists against the door. "BE YOURSELF KEN! BE KEN! DAMN IT! BE YOUR FUCKING SELF! GET OUT OF THAT DAMN ROOM!"

Daisuke didn't mind the fact that the Ichijouji's were gawking at him. He didn't notice the sudden heavy breathing he heard on the other side.

He just heard himself.

Panting, he turned and left, not caring that no one called him back.

Ken just kept staring at the door, his breathing slightly stronger.

Lying himself down, Ken cried himself to sleep.

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Her head was drooping.

He was at the brink of knocking down the door.

She didn't notice.

She was too fucking high to.

The door collapsed off its hinges, and he only glanced at her figure before rushing to her side.

Her face was pale and ashen. Her hair was sticking to her face, the sweat acting like an adhesive. Her auburn eyes rolled around in their sockets, and they were unfocused.

He was worried.

"Sora! Sora, come on, speak to me!"

Sora looked at her boyfriend in the eyes, and she slurred some words out.

"Go to hell."

He didn't even flinch. He lifted her off the tile flooring, and placed her on the living room sofa.

She made meager attempts to force him to release her, but all were in vain.

Thankfully, her parents were out of town, and weren't coming home for a while.

Before he could say anything encouraging, Sora leaned over the cushions, and threw up on the carpeted floor.

Without missing a beat, he fetched the towels and chemicals and cleaned up the mess. Not wanting to use them again, he also brought a bucket, and handed it to the drunken girl.

"Here, use it."

She grabbed the bucket and threw to the side. He quickly caught it and handed it back to her.

She lifted herself, and made to punch the man beside her.

She missed.

"I said to go to hell. Leave me the hell alone. I don't want you in my house. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"No, no, no," he countered, and smoothed out her hair. "I'm not leaving you like this. And you don't know what you're saying. You're drunk."

Her words, still garbled and inarticulate, barely left her mouth.

"You're a bast—,"

She fell asleep.

Feebly smiling, he went to get a damp towel, and when he did, he began to clean up her face.

Yamato Ishida spent the rest of the night with his girlfriend.

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"Damn it!"

The young teenager was sneaking out of his mom's house.

He wished he could have called it his 'parent's' house, but he couldn't.

It was his mom and grandfather's house.

So he didn't give a damn that he just ruined his mom's flower bed.

He cared that he scraped his knee against the thorns. But he shrugged it off, and continued.

It was dark, and he was only guided by the stars and moonlight.

He didn't need directions to get himself there.

He knew the fucking place by heart.

He had been there at least a thousand times. He practically lived there.

As he reached the halfway point, he realized that he had forgotten something.

"Shit!"

He headed for the store around the corner. It was the Takenouchi Floral Shop.

He had been to _that_ damn place at least a million times. And not all visits were pleasant.

Gathering his already built up courage, he headed straight in.

Being the cheap place it was, it had minimal security, so he was able to grab his gift and leave without detection.

As he headed for his destination once more, he suddenly made the decision not to go.

It was sudden and unexpected, but he didn't need to hassle tonight,

Turning around, he made it halfway to his house, when he realized something.

"Fuck!"

His grandfather was never a deep sleeper.

Tonight he had been out cold. If he wanted to go through with it, he had to do it tonight.

So, he faced the road, and slowly made his way to the graveyard.

He knew he was going to hell for sneaking out, but he didn't give a damn.

Iori Hida cursed the night to hell.

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"Are you sure?"

"No, I'm not."

Those words didn't encourage her as he left her room. She wanted something that would make her feel better.

She wanted hope, not doubt.

But lately, that was all she was getting.

She slumped into her bed, and ignored the sudden yells emitting from the adjacent rooms.

It was normal for him to be yelling at his parents. He had lost all respect for them.

He had lost all respect for everyone.

She didn't have the strength to cry. She wanted to break down, but she couldn't.

For some reason, fate had made her strong.

Fate wanted her to be resilient.

But she didn't.

She couldn't stand it.

The only reason her brother's nose wasn't broken already was due merely to the fact that he _was_ her brother.

She squeezed her pillow tightly, as she lay down. Eventually, she fell asleep, but not before reflecting on nothing but darkness.

Hikari Yagami was on the brink of giving up.

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He was red.

He was panting.

Slamming the door, he collapsed in his bed.

He hated them.

He hated them all.

He hated having to listen to their constant whining, and he hated their need to have him under their grasps.

He wanted independence.

And the only way he was going to get it was by leaving.

Without rethinking, he grabbed a suitcase, and began to pile clothing inside.

Halfway between, he began to think of her.

"Hikari."

He hadn't thought of her in the midst of his anger. He couldn't leave her with…with _them_. She couldn't stay.

He had to take her with him.

Quietly, he crept towards her door, which was connected to his room by their joint bathroom. Opening the unlocked door, he saw her sleeping.

She was tossing and turning. She didn't have peace.

And he didn't want to disturb her, forcing her into more pain.

He decided to leave.

Tomorrow. He would go tomorrow.

After making the choice, he went back to his room, and fastened the suitcase. He slid it under his bed, and turned off the lights.

When he tucked himself in, he shut out the discomforts.

He wasn't going to live here anymore.

He hated them.

He absolutely hated them.

He hated them all.

And even if they were his parents, the ones who raised him, he couldn't stand them.

And he couldn't stand any of his _friends_ either.

They were fucking depressed.

He hated depressed people.

But unlike cheerful people, he loved to hate.

And so he hated.

Taichi Yagami hated his life.

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He was always happy.

Never would one remember him depressed.

He may have been disappointed or occasionally sad, but never depressed.

He wouldn't allow himself to steep that low.

He hated depressed people.

But he hated to hate.

So all in all, he was on the verge of hating his friends.

If one is depressed or sad, you talk to your friends or family to resolve it.

Most of his friends refused to speak at all.

From love troubles, to being fed up with their parents, or just being an ass, they were falling apart.

They were all on the brink of chaos.

They had lost all hope and light.

They had become the people they once dreaded and feared to become.

They had once hated themselves.

But now, they were all dead.

They were mentally and emotionally dead.

They were all falling apart.

And Daisuke Motomiya refused to accept it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Digimon. I also don't own Be Yourself by Audio Slave which can be found on YouTube…search Digimon Destined and you'll find the awesome video that inspired this.

I took out the lyrics of the song, but they can be found on Google or some other search engine.

Enjoy, and please review.

And I forgot last chapter! Thanks so much to The Digital Gate for beta-reading this chapter and the last!

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**/11: 30 O'clock, Friday/**

She was sleeping.

It was a regular activity for her, being a normal human being, and yet sometimes, she wished she wasn't normal.

And in other times she wished she was.

Her dreams were definitely not normal.

Every night, dreams of hell and darkness would plague her. She would always toss and turn in her sleep.

Tonight was no different. She tossed and she turned, dreaming of hell and darkness.

It scared the shit out of her.

She refused herself from mentioning it to anyone. She wouldn't be able to bear it if someone knew.

She just couldn't.

Even if she lay down, and even if she her consciousness slipped away, she was still awake.

She was awake in hell.

Spinning all around her, she felt the only…thing that she would feel. It was the only feeling she could feel.

She felt dread.

Pure dread flooded her, and it left in only one state.

A state of silence was all it was.

She spun around inside herself, unsure of where to go.

Whenever she spoke, her voice was hoarse from inactivity. Whenever she walked, her legs almost gave way.

She was weak.

She wanted to be strong.

She needed to be damn _strong_.

But she wouldn't anyone help her.

She no longer cared for anyone.

She no longer carried love or respect for anyone.

She believed everyone should be damned to hell.

She didn't give a shit if they died.

And she since she wouldn't speak, she was damned to hell.

She wasn't sincere.

She wasn't considerate.

She was a fucking bitch.

And she knew it.

So she left herself in the silence, drifting away from society.

No longer was she sane. She had lost touch with reality.

She believed in silence.

Her life was silence.

She drifted away.

She dreamed of hell that night, just like any other nights.

Miyako Inoue embraced the damn silence.

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He was so damn tired.

He was sick of everyone hating him.

He was sick of everyone teasing him.

He didn't want to take drastic action.

He wasn't the violent type.

He needed to change.

And so, he changed.

Being the geeky doctor was never good.

He needed to be liked.

He had to establish to everyone that he was brilliant.

He needed to prove to everyone that he had what it took to kiss her.

He had what it took to hold her.

He needed to confirm he had what it took to love her.

And so, he proved it.

He changed.

And he hated it like hell.

His azure hair was ruffled, and the massive amounts of gel that stuck to it kept it straight. He wore black slacks, and a plain, white top. Covering it, he decked a black leather jacket that matched his black sneakers.

The dark sunglasses blocked his gorgeous black eyes.

He hated the damn person he became.

All because of _her_.

He hated her. He hated everything about her.

But he loved her.

He still damn loved her.

And he couldn't help it.

He had become the person all his _friends_ thought were stupid. He became the person who he himself had ridiculed about their lame personality and lack of individuality.

He had promised himself never to lose himself.

He had vowed to himself that he would never hide himself.

Instead, he no longer met with the others.

Instead, he never answered their phone calls.

He never spoke to her.

He never talked to any of them.

If they needed him, he wouldn't give a damn.

He was more important. He came first.

He was Jyou Kido.

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"I give up."

He had never uttered those words. He had never let them come out of his mouth.

Until then. Until that very moment, he had never let himself surrender.

He always held hope. Even when everything was falling apart, he knew that everything was eventually going to get better.

And that was the only damn reason the others hadn't committed suicide.

They always said two heads are better than one. And it was always true.

Until that day.

"I give up."

Daisuke looked at him hard. He refused to accept it.

"No. YOU WILL NOT GIVE UP, YOU IDIOT!"

He just smiled.

"Why, not? You're the one who's yelling, you know." He grinned. "Yelling is a sure sign of _anger_."

"Shut the hell up."

"No."

"Shut the _fuck_ up."

He tilted his head, and studied his friend closely.

Daisuke had sweat covering his face. His hair was sticking in wide angles, and he himself was pacing across the apartment floor. Every once in a while, he turned his head to glare at the blonde.

He didn't give a damn.

He had stopped caring for anything or for anyone a long time ago.

Daisuke was the only one who carried any hope, even if it was false.

"Why are you so…positive? Why can't you just accept the fact that we are all fucked up? Why can't you realize that we are where we are, and that there's nothing we can do about it?"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

The outburst wasn't unexpected, so he didn't flinch. He just kept grinning, and he just kept staring.

It was he could do.

He had given up way before Daisuke had barged into his forlorn apartment at the dead of the night. Granted, he wasn't sleeping or doing anything productive, so it didn't really matter. The interruption, however, could have been avoided.

He had been pondering this decision for a while.

She kissing him and running away had been the last straw.

He couldn't take it anymore.

He hated being the scapegoat.

He hated being perfect.

He hated everything.

Including himself.

And most of all he hated hope.

He wanted hope to go to hell.

To him, there was no such damn thing as hope.

He didn't give a shit about hope.

And he intended to let Daisuke know it.

"I will not. I _give up_. Deal with it. And why don't _you_ shut the fuck up, or leave _my_ damn apartment?"

He was answered by a glare, and the squish of his couch. Daisuke kept glaring at the writer, who had shifted his attention to television across the room.

Mentions of war and deaths only calmed him down. He closed his eyes in pleasure as he listened to the gunshots and the cries. He knew Daisuke was still eyeing him, disgust evident, but he didn't give a shit.

He hadn't been caring a lot lately.

And it was a nice change.

He didn't care.

He didn't give a shit.

He didn't bother.

He didn't give a damn.

He had lost all hope.

He was hopeless.

He was pathetic.

And he didn't give a shit.

He was not depressed.

He was just hopeless.

Takeru Takashi had lost all hope.

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He was staring into space.

For the last ten minutes, he sat staring at the wall. His eyes wouldn't move from one sole spot, lying in the middle of a blank white wall.

His never drooped, and yet, he felt so tired.

His brain hurt. He hadn't been thinking, but his head ached.

He wanted to sleep. He really wanted to.

He couldn't bring himself to.

He was no longer curious about his dreams.

He was no longer curious about anything anymore.

His grades were plummeting, but he didn't know.

His parents were worried, but he didn't know.

His health was deteriorating, but he didn't know.

His friends were all falling headfirst into a deep bottomless pit, never to be seen again.

He still didn't know.

He hadn't gathered himself to be curious about it.

He had other gathered ignorance, in every damn sense of the word.

And he still didn't know it.

Koushiro Izumi didn't know anything anymore.

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Yamato was damn tired.

His eyelids drooped, but he forced himself to stay awake.

He glanced every so often at the sleeping form on the sofa, and was always given a pleasant sleeping girl in response.

She was snoring soundly, her chest slowly rising and falling.

She looked peaceful.

But only for a second.

The next second, she thrashed around, shifting her position, but she still slept. Yamato couldn't bare it anymore.

_Why? What have I fucking done? I love her. And she should know it._

"Sora…"

The girl still slept, not aware of her surroundings.

He sighed.

Shaking his head, he altered his situation, making himself more comfortable, and reached for the glass of water on the table. Gently, he splashed some on his eyes, alerting him. Shaking his head once more, he set the glass back on the table, and laid his head on the pillow.

Yamato knew it was going to be one long night.

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She was crying.

She hadn't cried since she was…five.

Her kindergarten teacher had passed out crayons, and every table had a basket. She had been sitting with three other kids, all of which were males. They had been coloring in farm animals when the boy beside her reached across her.

"Give me that!"

He made a wide snatch at the crayon in her hand.

It was periwinkle blue.

She shook her head.

"No! I got it first!"

"I want to use it!"

"No! I _need_ it!"

"Miyako!"

The call of the teacher had made her let go of the crayon, leaving a grinning boy in its wake. The teacher lifted Miyako by her wrist and dragged her away from everyone else.

"Miyako! How dare you! You should know better! Always share, and never ever say no to someone when it comes to sharing! Always share!"

"But…"

"No buts! You will share." She pushed her into the corner, where Miyako sunk into the beanbag chair stationed in the dark corner of the classroom. "You're in timeout now, so stay here. No moving until I say so."

"But…"

"NO BUTS!"

After scolding the girl, the teacher marched off, leaving a confused and sad girl behind.

Miyako, knowing no better, began to cry.

It had been the last time she had cried.

So now, as Miyako wept, her eyes still were shut, and her mind was still asleep.

She cried as she slept, but her hand was hanging down her bed.

Her hand was balled up into a fist, carrying something.

It was a crayon.

It was periwinkle blue.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Don't own.

Okay, so I LOVE all 02 characters. Please, _please _don't think I'm bashing anyone in this chapter. I absolutely adore them all, and believe me, they all _will_ get better. (Maybe)

As for the introduction of the character I introduce…she will be playing a part. Maybe not a big one, but it will be a part.

So I hope you enjoy, and of course, review!

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**/11:45 O'clock Friday/**

Flipping her hair, she stormed past them, ignoring their steaming, red faces, and their angry glares.

She didn't give a damn about them.

She only cared about herself.

And for her popularity.

She was _popular_ after all.  
Being popular meant you had to be mean to everyone.

Being popular meant you had to sit with only popular people.

Being popular meant you had to be obnoxious and rude.

Being popular meant not giving a damn about anyone else except yourself.

And that's exactly what she did.

She yelled, she screamed, she whined, and she complained.

She didn't give a shit if someone stared at her.

It was just more attention.

She didn't care if someone thought she was a bitch, or if she was being an ass.

She was being who she thought was popular.

And she didn't give a damn about anyone else.

And even as much as she tried to deny it, she didn't give a shit about anything anymore.

_Including_ herself.

Even her so called _friends_ she used to have abandoned her. Even the so called _friends_ she had _now_ hated her.

And she didn't give a fuck.

She was a bitch. And she knew it.

She dumped the only man she ever loved. The only man who ever talked to her now only responded in silence. The only girls who went shopping with her never called anymore.

She had no friends.

And she knew it.

But she still didn't care.

She didn't mind the stares she got as she walked down the halls. She didn't bother with the whispers directed at her.

They called her a slut. They called her a whore. They called her a ho. They called her just about anything.

And she ignored them all.

Even the staff stared at her and rolled their eyes. Even they called her names.

And she loved it all.

She just soaked in the attention, and wouldn't admit anything was wrong.

But when she sunk into her bed that night, she cried.

She had been wearing a plastic smile for ages. She had been forcing herself to pretend to be happy.

She hated depressed people.

She hated it when they cut themselves, or when people complained on how fucked up their lives were.

And she did her best to make sure she wasn't one of them.

Instead, she became falsely happy.

She didn't notice anything around her besides herself.

Everything had to be about her.

She was the center of attention.

But no one wanted her to be.

That night, she was slapped.

She knew it was coming. She knew she deserved it.

But she didn't give a damn.

She was mad as hell, and she intended to get her revenge.

How dare he slap her? Wasn't he the one who had been stalking her and following _her_ for the past days?

She threw off her necklaces, and she wiped off the mounds of make-up on her skin. She removed the stuffing from her bra.

She tried to hard. She knew it. And she still kept it up.

She didn't know if he had got her out of it, but she did know it had already begun to take effect.

She was a bitch.

And she still knew it.

But Mimi Tachikawa was starting to give a damn.

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Sora turned.

She looked up to find her head throbbing, and her skin feeling dirty.

She desperately wanted to take a shower.

When she made to get up, she heard the soft moans from the sofa beside her.

As she studied his face, she felt mixed emotions.

She wanted to scream and yell at him.

She wanted to beat the shit out of him.

She wanted to cry on his shoulder.

She wanted to be held in his arms forever.

She wanted to kiss him and never let go.

And in the end, she totally ignored him and took that shower.

He woke up when she heard her splashes.

Slowly, he cleared up the table, filled with vomit, and straightened the pillows and sheets.

He headed to the kitchen, where he gathered some food, and filled a glass with milk.

When he returned, she was sitting on the couch, her bathrobe around her. She kept staring at the table when he sat down and placed the food on the table.

"Here, have some cookies and milk. It may not seem very appetizing, but it always helps me when I have a hangover."

She looked at him, confused.

"You…get hangovers?" Her voice was faint, and seemed strained.

He nodded and smiled, and she silently picked up the plate. She nibbled at first, but soon she was taking big bites, as she gulped down some of the milk.

She weakly smiled at him, and he moved over to be next to her on the couch. He stroked her hair, which was still wet, damping his fingers, but he just kept stroking.

He gently pulled her head onto his shoulder, and she quietly kept eating, but not moving away either.

And they sat.

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He was frustrated.

Unfortunately, he took out that anger on Mimi.

After leaving Takeru's apartment dejected, he had wandered the lonely streets. Somehow, he found himself standing before the only party held that night.

He wasn't surprised to find her laughing, her short, revealing dress fluttering in the wind. He didn't bother with blushing.

All of his _friends_ had seen Mimi in revealing clothing before.

It was _not_ pleasant.

When she walked past him, running her fingers through her companion's hair, he lost it.

"MIMI!"

The girl turned around, complete disinterest written all over.

"What, dweeb? I'm kind of busy now. You can have your chance later."

"WHAT THE FUCK? MIMI, IT'S ME, DAISUKE! Why the hell would I want to get into your pants? YOU BITCH!"

He had added the last part when she just grinned and began to slobber her latest man.

She turned, much to the dismay of her partner, and walked up to him.

He fumed, but she just smiled. He wanted to kill her.

He was always told never to hit a girl.

He was sure his parents wouldn't consider Mimi as a girl at this point.

So when she leaned in to kiss him, he did what he thought was best.

He slapped her.

_Hard_.

And she flinched.

"What the…?" She looked at him with such malice, but Daisuke didn't cringe. "Do you think you can just slap Mimi Tachikawa and get away with it?"

"You're not Mimi Tachikawa. You're a bitch. You're a slut, and a whore. Just get the fuck out of her. MIMI, GOD DAMN IT! COME BACK!"

He had lost it.

Still screaming at her, he ran off, leaving her staring at his silhouette.

When Michael Washington leaned in to kiss her, she punched him in the nose.

Mimi stalked off.

--------------------

Her phone was ringing.

She knew better than to pick it up in her condition.

Too bad she didn't give a damn.

"What do you want?"

"Mimi…"

The voice sounded familiar to her. She knew she hadn't heard it recently, but it sounded so sweet.

"Yes? Um…who the hell is this?'

"Mimi? You're not Mimi. I must have…got the wrong number then."

She made to protest, when the line was hung up.

Rolling her eyes, she quickly changed into her silk pajamas and tucked herself in bed.

She tried to go to sleep. She really did.

But the voice wouldn't leave her alone.

She didn't know who the hell it was.

And it bugged the shit out of her.

Frustrated, she got out of bed, and made her way to the phone again. Impatiently, she looked through the caller id. Again, it was a number that seemed familiar, but she couldn't pinpoint the exact person.

At first, she had considered it to be Daisuke's. She looked up his name in her phonebook, and found his number printed neatly beside it. Ignoring the evident change in handwriting, she was disappointed to find it a different number.

She winced as she felt the distress. She wasn't supposed to feel like that.

Then she reasoned that he wouldn't _want_ to talk to her.

And so, she grabbed the book and plopped down on her bed, flipping through it.

The As held some people, but they wouldn't have called her. The Bs and Cs held some more people, but none of them cared a shit about her.

The Ds, Es, Fs, and Gs had plenty of people who thought she was a whore.

The Hs, Is, and Js had people she didn't even remember putting down. She eliminated them by the fact that she would have remembered their names if she remembered their voice.

Finally, she reached the Ks.

Ka…no one. Ke…no one still. Kh…it had some people, but they all lived far away. Ki…

She ran her finger down the list, but she backtracked.

A name read clearly through the jumble of other names and numbers.

Jyou Kido.

It clicked.

Excited, she picked up her phone, and quickly dialed the number.

It rang, and it rang.

No one picked up.

After the answering machine picked up, she spoke.

"Hey...Jyou it's…Mimi. You called, and I…um…I guess I wanted to …talk. It's been a _really_ long time. I just wanted to…well…catch up. So um…call me. Please."

She hung up.

She didn't know why she felt so strange. She felt appeased by the sudden change in her voice.

She had bitched at Daisuke. She had yelled at her parents.

But she found herself so calm and _sincere_ when addressing Jyou.

And it scared the shit out of her.

She put away the phone. As she made to return the book too, she decided against it.

She carried it to her bed, and by the light of her desk lamp, she continued to flip through. She highlighted every name. She colored blue for people who she couldn't remember. She painted yellow for people who hated her. She tinted green for people who she used to think were her friends.

And she highlighted pink for the people she dreaded to face.

She highlighted pink for the people who she had hurt.

She highlighted pink for the people who she should still love.

She highlighted pink…her friends.

--------------------

Tossing and turning, she slept.

Well, she tried to sleep.

Her forehead was covered in sweat, and her fingers twitched.

She was scared.

She was lost.

Everything seemed like a lost cause.

Nothing seemed to be worth it anymore.

She wanted to break down and cry.

She knew she couldn't let her brother see her in that weak state, but she couldn't help it.

She no longer felt energetic or authentic.

She felt…empty.

She felt like nothing could go _right_.

And it pissed her off.

Jun Motomiya had just broken up with her boyfriend.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own.

**Beta-Read: The Digital Gate**

**Notes: **I expect 11 more chapters. So in total, 15 chapters. Not that bad.

Review, please. I swear, I haven't been getting enough time or motivation to write because I'm getting practically no reviews! C'mon guys, I know you're reading this!

--------------------

**/Friday, Midnight/**

Iori walked slowly as he entered the gate.

It was midnight, according to the clock situated on the tower, and so it felt very eerie to the young boy.

His hands were sweaty, having been carrying the flowers.

Usually, one would grab the pink or red.

He hated those colors. They reminded him of happiness.

As he kneeled before the gray stone, his fingers traced over the words.

_Hiroki Hida, beloved husband, son, and father. Died in an act of heroism._

Iori felt his eyes become moist. He felt his heart starting to break.

He remembered the first day so very clearly.

A thirteen year old boy was grabbing papers off the couch and table. The clock on the wall said seven fifteen.

His mother was in the kitchen, making pancakes and pouring orange juice. His grandfather was meditating in his room, oblivious to the morning chaos around him.

Iori was quietly eating oatmeal, watching intently as his father stepped into the kitchen.

Mr. Hida was a respected and honorable man. His name was known throughout his department, and everyone felt safe in his company.

Iori smiled at his father when he patted his brown hair.

He returned to his breakfast, his eyes staring at the bowl. He observed the bumps and how the steam only rose from certain sections of the meal.

It was something only Iori would do so early in the morning.

But as his father kissed his wife on the cheek, and she giggled, he ignored it.

It was so _routine_.

He didn't pay attention to that type of stuff.

He knew he should have. He just didn't.

Hiroki smiled at his son.

Iori knew he was proud. He was proud that his father was proud.

Mr. Hida tilted his head. That was when Iori noticed.

He noticed the wrinkles on the forehead of the man. He noticed the way his father wrinkled his nose every few seconds. He noticed the bags under his eyes.

His father was stressed out.

But Iori didn't do anything about it.

Iori was certain that his father's reflexes were slowing down. His father was old. He knew that his father was going to need help.

He just didn't say a word.

"Hey son?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"Uh huh, whatever you say."

And those four sentences were what killed Hiroki Hida.

The guilt, the regret, and the pure insanity were what drove Iori to visit the grave of the only man he had truly hated at one point.

Now, however, he loved the man more than anything.

"Dad…"

The flowers he had carried with him were placed on the soft soil, and Iori found himself not being able to peel his eyes away.

He couldn't see anything anymore.

Both figuratively and literally.

His eyes were blurred from his tears. His eyes stung from the pain the tears caused him. He wanted to wipe them away, but he knew the damage would get worse with his dirt covered hands.

His heart and head were covered by his guilt. His regret blocked his judgment.

Being curious and being reliable used to be his two greatest qualities.

_Used_ to be.

He no longer cared to know what was going on around him. He no longer helped anyone besides himself.

He had lost himself.

And he wanted himself back.

"Dad, help me."

Iori's hand balled into a fist, and he closed his eyes.

"I love you, dad, and I know that you know it. I miss you. I need you. I need you to help me. I need you to help me help everyone else. I need someone to get me out of this mess."

He opened his eyes, and focused on the grave, picturing his father's brilliant eyes looking lovingly back at him.

"Why? Why did you leave me? Why did you start this mess? If you hadn't died, I wouldn't have fallen apart. If I hadn't fallen apart, I could have prevented all of the others from falling apart. I was suppose to help them, I was suppose to somewhat _guide_ them."

Iori snorted.

"Ha, me, guiding the others. Imagine that? You can't, right? It's not plausible. It's not conceivable. If only you could see me now. If only the others could see me now. I bet Miyako would be slapping me silly, distraught. I bet Ken would have nothing to do with me. And same with Daisuke. Hikari and Takeru would only shake their damn heads, saying nothing, just looking with that damned look of theirs. Hell, I don't even know the others! They only look at me like a fucking kid. And I am one. I'm just one fucking, damn, kid."

He stuffed his head in his palms, his eyes burning from contact with the dirt.

"Dad, how did I end up like this? How did I lose myself? I wanna be _me_ again. I wanna be Iori. Iori Hida."

The teen choked back the remaining tears, and wiped his hands on his pants before wiping his eyes.

Sighing, he shook his head.

"Look at me. I'm so lost; I'm speaking to an epitaph. But dad, I love you. And I hope you always remember that."

A slight smile creeping upon his features, Iori glanced down at the grave.

Slowly, he picked himself up, dusting himself off, and ran his fingers through his hair.

He knew he should get help. He knew professional help wasn't going to do any good.

He need Hikari's guiding smile. He needed Miyako's crazy advice. He needed Ken's skills. He needed Takeru's friendly laugh. He needed Daisuke's determination.

He needed everyone. Every single last fucking damn one of them.

And he was sending himself to hell if Daisuke wasn't the man to help him.

Iori smiled.

It was a true, genuine smile.

It was something that Iori hadn't seen for a very, _very_ long time.

And it felt good.

Iori looked down at the grave one last time.

There, on the moist, fresh soil, lay a dozen white roses, smiling back at him.

-----------------------

Takeru couldn't sleep.

If there was one thing that pissed him off the most, it was not being able to get in all the hours of sleep he needed.

And so, he was cranky.

He dragged himself out of bed, having given up staring at his white ceiling, imagining something exciting happening. Frustrated, he grumbled under his breath.

Having gained a sudden idea, Takeru made his way into the adjacent room. There, he saw the open drawer in front of him.

Yamato always had trouble sleeping. Being as busy as he was, he always had sleeping pills handy.

And for once, Takeru was glad for it.

Searching through the pile of drugs, his frustration peeked when he came up empty.

When he slammed his hand onto the drawer, he didn't notice the ceramic mug which went flying towards the floor, smashing into millions of pieces.

Takeru ignored it.

He kept searching.

However, in was in that period that he heard the sobs.

They were muffled, and Takeru assumed someone was trying to cover them. They were quiet and short, the person clearly out of breath.

He glanced at the clock.

Midnight.

Who the hell would be knocking on his door at midnight?

But the sobs made him stop.

Takeru was sensitive. He had sensitive hearing. He had sensitive sight. He had sensitive taste.

And he was sensitive to other people's feelings.

Especially when people cried.

If there was one thing Takeru hated, it was when people cried.

Whenever Takeru encountered someone crying, he felt the sudden urge to punch something. To punch _someone_. Usually, the person crying was knocked out after one hit.

Feeling that urge creeping up on him again, Takeru made his way to the front entrance, stifling the pain caused from the shards on glass on the floor.

He pulled the door open, drawing his fist back.

He stopped.

Out of all the people he hated to see cry, the person before him was the worst.

He only liked seeing her happy. She was the embodiment of happiness.

And there she was, crying.

Her deep eyes were red, and her cheeks stained with tears. Takeru looked away from the angelic face.

He _hated_ her. He hated everything about her.

"Go to hell."

He made to close the door on her face, but he stopped and melted midway when she looked up.

And when she gave him pleading eyes to let her in, he slowly moved to the side.

He ignored the weak, and yet genuine, smile his visitor gave him.

Takeru hated her.

Or at least, that's what he told himself.

-----------------------

When he turned around, he couldn't help but smile.

There he was, his goofy grin beaming back at him.

That's Daisuke for you.

"Hey."

"Hey."

The younger of the two slowly walked up to the other, and the goggle-headed boy smiled feebly.

Daisuke awkwardly shifted.

"So….how are you?"

Iori snorted.

"Oh, just dandy." He broke out into a grin. "I can't believe I'm going to say this…but, give me a hug."

Daisuke blinked. And then, he blinked again.

Iori was right. He _couldn't_ believe he'd just said that.

But he gave in.

The friendly hug was awkward, but both knew that the best interests of each other were present.

Daisuke knew it was a start.

"You willing to help me knock some sense into the others?"

"Of course."

Daisuke nodded, and threw his arm around his friend, glad that something had turned out all right. But there was a tiny hint of suspicion in his mind.

"What got ya to get your head out of ya ass?"

Iori sighed.

"I guess…life. Just did some thinking. And some talking."

Daisuke noted that his eyes quickly darted back to the grave, and Daisuke smiled in understanding.

"Hey, whatever it was, I'm glad there's somebody out there with some sense in them. Now, are you ready to unfuck some totally fucked up people?"

"Absolutely."

And with that, the most unlikely duo exited the graveyard.

However, not before both cast a meek look at Mr. Hida's final resting place.

-----------------------

Ken was fast asleep.

But his dreams haunted him.

They always had.

Ever since he could remember, his dreams had been filled with horror and dread.

Sometimes, he wanted nothing more than it to be morning. Other nights, he soaked in the darkness and despair.

Tonight, he showed no interest.

He held no emotion. He had no feeling.

He just slept.

In the back of his mind, he could hear the muffled cries of his mother, and the desperate pleas of his father. He could hear the pounding on his door.

He was surprised no one just knocked it down.

Ken didn't bother to tell them to go away anymore. He knew that they would keep insisting that he leave the gloom and shadows in his room.

But he liked it there.

He liked the feeling he got from the coldness that has settled onto his blankets. He loved the feeling of wind and numbness on his bare feet.

He threw out the socks a long time ago.

But Ken hated his dreams.

They always had some arrangement of colors in them, purple, blue, and yellow always a part of it. He always ended up in the hospital, whether for because of himself or someone else, always changed. But the main consistent element was death. Someone always died. A couple of times, Ken was on the brink of death, always waking up just mere seconds before the deed was done. The majority of the time, however, someone else died.

He remembered clearly the times his friends had died. Especially, Daisuke. For some reason, his dreams loved to torture his former best friend. He was mangled, hung, and brutally murder, once because of Ken's own accord.

He hated them. He hated the illusion of guilt and regret. He hated the feelings of love and loss he felt when he saw their blood staining his clothes.

And he hated himself for having those dreams. He hated the guilt that he felt after them. He couldn't feel guilt. He didn't have _feelings_. He held no emotions.

He had no heart.

And yet, he felt hate. Ken knew that hate wasn't the enemy to love.

It was apathy. Indifference. Lack of concern.

And that's just what Ken felt.

Apathy. He felt nothing but disinterest and unconcern for his friends' death.

Except when he felt guilt. And then, he hated.

And hating was a feeling.

And Ken hated to feel.

So on went the vicious cycle, Ken in the middle of it all.

And not only did it scare the shit out of him, it also bothered the _hell _out of him.

So Ken ignored the pain.

He ignored everything. He ignored everyone.

And Ken slept.

-----------------------

"So, who first?"

"Well, Ken isn't going to be coming around anytime soon. I think he needs everyone's help."

"What about Takeru?"

"We're going to need Hikari to get to Takeru. Unfortunately, Hikari is protected by Taichi, and he won't let any of us lay a damned hand on her."

"And Yamato?"

"Actually, I have no clue. Probably off fucking Sora."

"Have you talked to Sora?"

"Probably off fucking Yamato."

"Miyako?"

"Haven't seen her in a while. I don't think she's come out of his room…like ever. We're probably going to need the girls to get her out."

"Jyou? Koushiro? Mimi?"

"Jyou is no longer Jyou, and I have absolutely no fucking wish to see or speak to him. Koushiro disappeared a couple of days after you stopped talking to me. And Mimi…"

"Yeah?"

"She's changed."

"A bitch?"

"Yup."

"So what now?"

"I have no clue. You're supposed to be the smarter one."

"You're supposed to be the leader."

Silence was his response. Finally, Daisuke sighed.

"I say we go find Sora and Yamato. Yamato is probably the only one of us who isn't _completely_ insane, and maybe Sora isn't either."

"Whatever you say."

"That sounds good."

Iori rolled his eyes, Daisuke strutting forward, and shook his head, following.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I don't own.

**Beta-Read: **The Digital Gate

**Notes: **Sorry for the wait. This was a very long chapter. Think of it as the first chorus in a song.

And one may wonder how am I going to make this story 15 chapters…I have my ways.

Review. 4 reviews would be great.

--------------------

_Who would have thought it would end up like this?_

Iori Hida frowned searching their dispassionate eyes. They looked so…loving and romantic, but he knew better.

He knew that comfort and security was also playing a heavy factor.

He was glad that the two were alone. He was glad that they were even speaking. Unknown to Daisuke, the two had just reached the point of tension in their relationship.

Iori didn't feel the need to correct him.

He knew that Sora was taking drugs and was frequently visiting bars and clubs. He knew that Yamato wasn't getting sleep. He knew that they had been finding little time to spend together.

He knew that Sora was mad.

He knew that Yamato was scared.

And he knew that they wanted to make it work.

How did he know? He listened.

It was his one asset. He listened.

He heard what others said. He understood their views, their beliefs. He knew what to soak in and what to ignore.

He listened.

And now, as the two sat still as Daisuke cracked open the door and stood watching the couple, complete confusion written on his face, Iori knew that they were fine.

They would have spots where they were going to fight. They would probably break up a couple times, if not more.

But right then, at that point in time, everything was alright. Everything would work itself out.

And Iori was glad that love was still in the air.

Friendship.

Love.

They needed it. They needed it to help the entire gang; the entire group, get back together. They needed it to help heal.

Which was why Iori was glad when Daisuke decided to visit them first.

Iori was reliable. He was knowledgeable to an extent. Daisuke was courageous and brave. He was extremely loyal.

But they needed the glues. They needed the bonds. They needed the help.

And that help would be attained from Sora and Yamato.

So Iori was glad to see them starting to mend themselves. If they healed, they could help heal everyone else.

But he wanted to make sure that they were cured too.

He hated it when someone had to take care of everyone else. When one person had to carry the weight for everyone.

When one person watched over and protected everyone.

It was a _team_ effort.

And Iori wanted his team back together.

--------------------

_What is wrong with me?_

Ken Ichijouji was awake, and frankly, he was glad. He wanted to be able to stretch his legs.

The new emotion he felt, that of stiffness and soreness, felt odd to him. It felt exotic even.

And the cryptic movements of his feet felt strange. They were carrying him of their own free will. He had no control, no say.

His hand reached towards the door. Somehow, his brain kicked in.

He flinched and pulled away.

Even if he wanted to leave the margins of his room, he wouldn't be able to face them.

His parents. His classmates. His teachers. His friends.

His _real_ friends.

The ones that didn't hang out with him just because he was famous and a genius. The ones who _cared_ that he was locking himself up in his room.

And his love.

The one girl who stood by his side not for his skills, but for his heart.

And then stomped on it. Over and over again.

Ken felt the tears swell up.

He shook his head, and pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind.

Right now, he needed to focus and concentrate on the apologizes he owed.

And he knew he owed plenty.

He was going to start with his parents. He needed their guidance and support to talk again, to communicate. Then he would find his friends.

Unless his friends found him first.

And that's what he guessed was going to happen.

Slowly, he made his way to his desk.

He stroked the cold wood. He felt the dust collect under his fingers.

He hadn't used it in _so_ long. He hadn't written or typed _anything_ in such a while.

And Ken didn't realize the effects until that moment.

As he began to write with his favorite pen on his favorite notepad, he felt the words flowing through him. He didn't know where half the ideas and half the structure came from.

But after reading over them all, he knew they were perfect. They were heartfelt and right.

They felt…kind.

And he was glad.

_He_ felt kind.

And he was glad.

He wanted to spread this kindness to everyone else. He felt that everyone should be able to feel his new rekindled sense of calm and rationality.

But he wanted his family and friends to know it first.

He took a deep breath.

He left the notepad on the bed.

Slowly, he unlocked the door. He twisted the knob.

Swinging open the door, he stepped out.

He was ambushed immediately.

And Ken welcomed it.

--------------------

_When will we finally realize that it's only as bad as we make it out to be?_

Yamato Ishida kept his arm wrapped around her shoulder, and did his best to look over without disturbing her.

They needed this.

And they were glad that they showed up as quietly as they did.

They needed it.

"Hey."

It was a whisper on his part, but Yamato knew that Daisuke meant well.

"Hey."

After responding, he lifted Sora off his shoulder and looked into her eyes. She smiled at him and he could see the confusion in her eyes slowly melt into love, sadness, guilt, and worry.

Her neck snapped.

"Is everyone okay? Is anyone hurt? Are they? You wouldn't be looking like that unless someone was hurt! Huh? Tell me!"

Her voice was frantic, and Yamato couldn't help but smile.

She was back.

"Sora, calm down. I'm sure they would have called if it was urgent. C'mon, can't we see each other _without_ it being an emergency?"

Sora looked at him, and nodded. "Yeah, you're right." She closed her eyes. "Deep breaths, Sora, deep breaths."

Iori moved to the other couch across from the one the couple was sitting on, and Daisuke took a place on the seat next to him.

"So…how are things?"

Yamato stood up and went to lock the door, leaving Sora feeling slightly self-conscious in her bathrobe. She shrugged the feeling off however.

"Things seemed to be okay. If not, we'll find a way around that." She smiled. "How about you guys? How's life? Have you seen any one of the others?"

Iori looked to the floor, but Daisuke cleared his throat as Yamato sat back down.

"Well…I'm okay. I'm just…missing everyone, that's all. It's been _such_ a long time since we've all just…hung out. Iori wasn't doing so well…but he came around. Everyone else…well, we'll just have to knock some sense into them."

Yamato nodded solemnly.

"I was afraid of that. I hope Taichi and Takeru haven't been giving either of you too much trouble."

"Well, I'm kinda..._afraid_ to go to Taichi, so I haven't seen him. Takeru, on the other hand, seems to be…hopeless. Literally. I'm hoping Hikari can somehow break through the prison Taichi set her in and get through to him."

Sora groaned. "Why does Taichi have to be so _damn_ protective? Can't he see that we're all trying to help each other?"

Iori sighed. "He just wants to be loved again. He feels like he's lost everything and everyone. He needs and _wants _help. And hopefully, we can give it to him."

Yamato smiled. "We'll do it together. Together, we'll get our leader back."

And after everything his best friend had ever done for him, Yamato vowed to himself to help him if it was the last fucking thing he did.

--------------------

_Where did I get this crazy idea?_

Hikari Yagami would have _never_ done this. She couldn't imagine herself jumping out of her window and climbing down her four story apartment building. She wouldn't have _ever _imagined herself coming _here_ of all places.

But there she was, at _his_ house, sitting on _his _couch in front of _him_.

Granted, it wasn't really his house, it was Yamato's. But then again, it was half his and he did live, eat, and sleep there.

But she still couldn't believe it.

Hikari was at Takeru's house.

And after leaving him as suddenly as she did, she didn't think she would be able to face him again.

She hadn't done anything bad. She just did something good.

And that was what made it the worst situation possible.

Hikari knew she shouldn't have just kissed him and run away. She knew it would only lead to things that neither of them could handle in the current condition.

But Hikari hated having to be perfect and special. She wanted to be _normal_.

And having raging hormones was normal. Kissing your crush of five years was normal. Running away after doing the possibly craziest thing in your life was normal.

But Hikari still didn't feel normal.

She felt stupid. She felt anxious and afraid. She felt…cold and numb.

She didn't feel joy or lightheartedness. She didn't feel light.

She felt darkness.

She knew that a period of hate, despair, and depression had fallen on her friends. Her brother had lost all sense of…Taichi-ness. He had become something that Hikari regretted to say was her brother.

And Takeru was still the same old Takeru, even if he tried burying it deep within himself, hiding it from everyone else.

He was still the hope filled and joyous blonde haired boy who loved to play basketball and write.

He was still Takeru Takashi.

And he was still the man Hikari Yagami loved.

And Hikari was determined to tell him that.

If she could speak at all, that is.

But Takeru was gloomy and sullen, refusing to speak. She tried to strike up conversation, but all attempts were feeble since her vocal chords refused to move.

_Damn hormones._

"'Keru…"

The blonde refused to meet her eyes, making no effort to listen or comprehend her hesitance and reluctance at speaking. Hikari sighed.

"Takeru, please listen to me. I'm _so _sorry for just…taking off like that. I should have explained or done _something_. I just…couldn't _think_. I was kinda out of it. I was so preoccupied." She shook her head. "But enough excuses. I kissed you. You kissed me back. There was _chemistry_. I _know_ there was something there, and I hate myself for running. I hate myself for just leaving everything and seeing if I could avoid confrontation. I should have just _faced_ you."

Takeru frowned. "Don't say that."

Hikari raised her eyebrow. "Say what?"

"Don't say that you hate yourself. You _can't_ hate yourself. _No one_ hates you. You're just…so…_perfect._"

That did it. That one word blew it. Hikari squeezed her eyes shut and stood up.

She let it all out.

"I AM NOT SO DAMN PERFECT! WHY CAN'T ANYONE JUST LET ME BE _NORMAL_? I WANNA BE A NORMAL PERSON, DAMN IT!"

Takeru blinked. "'Kari, you are normal. You're the normal-est person who ever walked the planet. Maybe not to you, or some other stranger walking down the street, but to me, you're perfect. And your perfection and the slight _lack of perfection_ is what attracted me. It's what _attracts _me. It's what made me fall into depression when you ran away. It's what made me kiss you _back_. It's what's preventing me from looking you in the eye. And it's what is urging me to kiss you right now."

Hikari's lip quivered, and her eyes became soft. Before she knew it, Takeru's lips were pressed against hers.

The first time was pure excitement. It was their first kiss together, and the spontaneity and sudden idea behind it clouded over the actual _feeling._

This time, however, it was all comfort. It was all pleasure and _enjoyment_. They _needed_ the kiss. They wanted the lip-lock to speak for them. It communicated all the emotions and all the pent-up desires growing inside of them.

When Hikari backed away, she knew she wasn't going to be running again anytime soon.

And Takeru lifted her chin, and looked into her amber eyes. They were full of compassion. Not love.

They didn't know if love was a feeling that was sinking into them. They just knew it felt _right_.

And in Hikari's book, anything that caused her happiness and felt right was perfect.

--------------------

_Why is everything so fucked up?_

Jyou Kido quivered as he listened to the message. Pure sincerity and honesty radiated from her voice.

He immediately picked up his phone and he dialed her number.

It was on speed dial.

As the connection rung, Jyou suddenly became conscious of himself. He hadn't spoken to her like a friend…since forever. Though it may have only been a couple of months, if not weeks, to them it seemed as if it had been many, many years.

It kept ringing.

Holding onto the hope that she may not pick up, Jyou relaxed, but it was short-lived when the receiver answered.

"Hello?"

The voice seemed to be strained and quite, and Jyou could sense a bit of nasal in it.

She had been crying.

"Mimi? Is everything okay?"

"Jyou?"

"Yeah…"

"Jyou! I'm so glad you called! I was going through my phonebook. I can't believe I haven't spoken to the gang in ages."

"Yeah…"

"Is that _all _you can say?"

Jyou gulped, and exhaled. He needed to get it out.

"Mimi…have you seen me around school lately?"

"No…"

He sighed.

"That's what I was hoping for."

"Why?"

"Otherwise you would be yelling at me for I've become."

When a silence hovered, and he knew something was wrong.

"Mimi?"

"Yeah. I'm still here."

"Are you okay?"

"Truthfully, no. I need to see you guys again. I feel so…bitchy. I feel wrong. I feel filthy and unclean. I feel defiled."

"You just need help."

"I know. I'm just afraid to ask for it."

Jyou opened his mouth to respond, but his voice escaped him.

"Jyou?"

"Mimi, can I ask you something."

"Uh…go ahead."

"Have you ever felt _truly_ in love?"

Silence hovered.

"No. I don't think so. Why?"

"I think…well…let's just say that I changed everything about me, my appearance, my style, my character, just to impress this girl. Yes, I know that's stupid. But if I can't gather the courage to tell her that I love her, do I?"

"Jyou…I really can't answer that question for you. Do you love her? Only you know."

Jyou sighed.

"I know, I know. Thanks Mimi."

"Hey, I should be the one thanking you. You snapped my out of my bitchy ways…somewhat."

He laughed, and he heard her smiling on the other side.

"Um…Mimi? Do you mind if we hang out tomorrow?"

"That sounds great. I'll meet you at your place."

"No, I'll meet you at yours."

"I'm not sure if that's a great idea…"

"Mimi, I really don't give a shit."

Once more was there no response.

"That sounds good."

"And Mimi?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm really glad I'm talking to you."

"Me too."

With that, Jyou hung up.

Lying on his bed, he shook his head.

He was an idiot. A complete and total idiot.

_I'm really glad I'm talking to you?_

He didn't know if he could have sounded cornier.

Sighing, he jumped into bed.

He'd just have to face her tomorrow.

Jyou had no other choice.

--------------------

_How am I supposed to love if I'm not feeling loved?_

Sora Takenouchi was thoroughly and utterly frustrated. Taichi wasn't functioning. Takeru was hopeless.

How far had the others sunk?

What about Mimi?

"Iori?"

The younger boy looked up at the redhead, and tried to look questioningly. His eyes told otherwise, signaling pity for the girl.

"What about…Mimi? Is she okay?" She whimpered worriedly, though she knew the answer already.

Iori look down. "She's…um…not doing so well. I caught a glimpse of her at school and from what Daisuke's told me, she's become…" He glanced up and caught her pleading expression. He sighed. "Well…bitchy. And I _really _don't wanna she her in the state she's in."

Sora's lip quivered, but she kept in control. She knew it was true. Iori _never_ lied. At least, he never lied when he was in his normal state.

And Iori was as normal as he could get.

Sora sighed. Yamato squeezed her hand, which was in his, and she leaned on his shoulder. She needed all the support she could get.

And she needed all the love she could get.

She didn't know if Yamato loved her. He acted like it, he spoke like it, but he had never admitted it. She knew that Yamato, and all her friends, loved her in the dearly, friendly manner as she wished, but she needed that romantic love as well. She needed something besides the sibling and platonic love she had been receiving.

But Sora knew that in order to receive, one has to give.

She decided to push the issue away for now.

"Who do you think needs the most help right now?" she asked, her voice feeble.

"Taichi," Daisuke replied promptly. "I used to think that it may have been Ken, but I think that he only needs our reassurance. He'll be good. But Taichi…he needs everyone, especially Hikari and you two." He nodded at the couple.

Yamato nodded and sighed. "Do you think we should go and see if we can reach Koushiro? Or maybe Miyako?"

"Miyako, no," Daisuke answered, shaking his head. "We're going to need Mimi and Hikari for that. But I dunno about Koushiro. I haven't really spoken to him…since…well ever." Daisuke looked down, ashamed.

"It's okay," Sora remarked, comfortingly. "We'll go together. And who knows, maybe you'll finally get to be lectured by Izzy."

"Izzy?"

"Koushiro's nickname. Don't call him that though, he really hates it. We only call him that to get him annoyed. Or to get him to leave his damned laptop." Yamato grinned devilishly. "It works every time."

Iori smiled and Daisuke chuckled. Sora smirked.

She hadn't laughed, or done something resembling that action, in _such_ a long time. And it felt good. Very good.

"Then I see no reason why we don't pay a _visit _to Koushiro first," Sora said, determined.

Daisuke bit his lip. "Well, that _would _work, if only we knew where he fucking _was_."

Yamato raised an eyebrow. "You lost him?"

"No! He ran away. Didn't you know that?"

Yamato looked to the ground. "No, I didn't."

Sora wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him on the cheek. She knew that Yamato was feeling guilty. She knew that he was going to soon blame himself.

"It's not your fault. You were too preoccupied. Its okay, we'll find him, together. We've got help, anyways."

Yamato sighed. "Yes, but that's not the point. I wasn't there. I'm _never_ there. When you needed me, when Koushiro and Taichi and Ken and Takeru and-"

She hushed him, placing a finger on his lips. He refused to meet her eyes, and so, she gave up, resorting to letting him figure it out himself.

She was getting _slightly_ tired of all the mothering she had to do. Couldn't she just be a fucking _kid_?

Sora promptly ignored him, turning her attention towards the younger two.

"Do you guys have _any_ clues or ideas of where he could be?"

"Well…I think I have an idea, but I'm not sure…" Iori muttered, but loud enough for the room to hear.

"It's the best we've got. It's more than _I've _got," Yamato rebutted.

Sora rolled her eyes.

She continued to ignore her boyfriend.

Who she loved.

Or she _thought_ she loved.

She didn't know anymore.

But that wasn't the point. She needed to help find Koushiro. With Koushiro alright, it would be much easier to bring around Jyou and maybe even Mimi, Miyako, and Ken.

And Taichi.

Sora felt a pang in her stomach.

Taichi was her best male friend. He was her _first _male friend. The first guy that didn't have cooties.

She needed him. She needed his friendship.

She needed his love. His _platonic_ love.

She sighed.

As Sora took in deep breathes, she knew it was going to be a painful morning tomorrow.

--------------------

_Which is the right path now?_

Jun Motomiya was so confused.

Daisuke hadn't come home yet. She suspected it was due to the messed up friends of his.

But Jun didn't have time to waste on her brat-of-a-brother.

Shuu had broken up with her. And she was devastated,

She didn't know what to do. She felt shallow for being so _depressed_. And yet, she knew she wasn't that sad. She felt…_alive_. She felt free.

But she felt as if her life was shit. She felt that nothing could be worse.

But Jun wasn't shallow or stupid or conceited. She was a smart and genuine girl.

And so she felt like dirt.

Jun shook her head. She couldn't waste time wallowing in self pity. She needed to fall asleep. She knew she would feel better in the morning.

And so, she fell asleep, feeling slightly empty.

It was as if she was missing something.

Jun felt as if she was missing a part of herself.

--------------------

_Who can possibly help me?_

Miyako Inoue tried to fall asleep. Her dreams, however, were so happy and unreflective of her current mood, she felt sick thinking of them.

It was as if her dreams were trying to show her that she was just hiding the happiness inside herself.

It was as if she was _trying_ to be depressed. As if there was nothing left in her that all she could do was to be depressed.

Miyako hated the feeling.

She hated _all_ feelings.

Her eyes looked up at the gloomy ceiling in her room.

A crashing noise from the living room caught her attention.

Rolling her eyes, she decided to ignore it. Her siblings were always getting into trouble. It was nothing new or exciting. It was nothing she needed to involve herself with.

She turned on her side, facing the blank, white wall. She imagined pictures and images floating and gliding across.

She was hanging out with her friends. She was eating dinner with her family. She was happy with herself. She was on her computer, fixing something, having fun. She was enjoying herself.

Images of how her life _used_ to be, of how it _should_ be, glittered in her mind.

She wanted to scream in agony. She wanted to scream in pain. She wanted to scream in guilt.

She couldn't do this to herself. She needed to free herself. She needed to be the idealistic woman she used to be.

She needed to be independent again. She needed her personality back.

She was sinking. And fast.

Miyako covered her eyes with her palms, and she felt her eyes vibrating against them. She knew they were red.

She tried to swallow the salvia that had gathered in her throat, and she felt her vocal cords go numb. They had been inactive for such a long time.

And that was just the irony. Miyako, the loudest, most outspoken person, had vocal cords that were numb due to inactiveness.

It was just so _stupid_.

Miyako knew that she couldn't cure herself overnight.

She needed help. She needed her friends.

Her family couldn't help her at this point. She needed to be healthy to talk to them. She needed her friends the help her break out of the prison she had set herself in.

So she sat in her room, waiting. She waited for her friends who she knew were going to come.

And she knew Daisuke would be there too.

Daisuke. She needed Daisuke more than anyone else. She needed his courage and his determination. His loyalty and stupidity at times were what she needed.

She needed him.

She loved him.

And she didn't know if she could tell him that anymore.

It was the simple love of the idiot that had caused her to go into hiding into her room. Her love had made her cowardly. She couldn't face him or anyone else.

She needed Hikari and her kind words. She needed Mimi and her overreactions. She needed Sora and her comforting arms.

She needed Daisuke and his empowering gaze.

Miyako sat up, and closed her eyes.

She was going to wait for the.

She knew they were going to come. Miyako was sure about it.

--------------------

_What am I going to do?_

Mimi Tachikawa was shocked. He was coming there.

_Jyou Kido_ was coming there.

She was scared. She was afraid. She didn't want him to see her. She wanted to talk to him. She wanted to see _him_. But she couldn't be able to face him if he saw what she had become.

And he had said that _he_ had changed. She couldn't think of a way that he could have changed that made him look bad. But he had done them to impress a _girl_.

That wasn't like the Jyou she had known. That wasn't like the Jyou she had liked.

She didn't want to think of the way she felt of Jyou as love. She didn't want to break her own heart, falling for a guy who was only a ghost of his former self. She wanted to see him as he was now so she could judge him-

No. She wanted to _judge _him. She had fallen back to bad habits. She wouldn't judge Jyou for what he was on the outside. Only on what he was inside. If he was still the reliable, superstitious, lovable, goof he was before, then…

She didn't know. She didn't know if she would allow herself to love him.

She loved him. She knew it. She just didn't want to admit it to herself or to anyone else.

Least of all, him.

_How can I face him like this? How can I face him when I don't even know what the hell I wanna to do with myself?_

Mimi looked around her. Her room was a mess. She decided that she could clean it tomorrow so that it looked somewhat presentable.

She lay back on her bed, and using the remote she had been given by her parents a while back, she turned off the lights.

Surrounded by darkness, she could see the moon shine through the blinds of her window. It was comforting in a way, assuring her that no matter how dark it gets, even if you made it that way, there'll be some sort of light shining through.

She sighed.

Mimi didn't know how much more she could take. Next, she'll probably learn that Sora's on drugs. Or even worse, that Miyako was acting suicidal.

She wouldn't be able to handle it.

She couldn't handle learning Jyou wasn't acting Jyou-like.

It scared her. She was shit scared.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and tried to clam her mind down. Tomorrow would be a big day for her. She was going to meet Jyou face-to-face. She planned to call all her friends. She wanted to see them too.

As she slowly fell asleep, Mimi waited anxiously for dawn.

--------------------

_When will this end?_

Taichi Yagami was fast asleep. His restless body tossed and turned. His mind, however, was void of dreams or nightmares.

He did this to himself.

Three months. It had only taken three months for Taichi to become rebellious. He used to be disciplined and loyal son. He would listen to his parents. Occasionally he would get mad at them or wouldn't follow something they said, but it was normal.

He used to be normal. He wasn't normal anymore. He had turned into the lonely and depressed person who he had feared to become. He used to take every measure to prove to himself that he was happy. He would prove that he content with life. He knew people loved him. He had amazing friends who cared. He had an excellent sister who was fun and who he loved. He had a loving and caring family.

But he threw it all out. For independence.

He thought he was being courage. He thought he was doing the right thing. He thought it was to live up to his potential. He didn't realize that independence comes with maturity.

And Taichi was _very_ immature. Everyone knew that. Except for Taichi himself.

He thought he was the king of the world. He thought he was the grand ruler of everything living.

He had infinite pride. He had a swollen ego. He was vain.

He was everything you weren't supposed to be.

And Taichi didn't have a clue.

He thought he was the best example of a teenager. Independent and free, smart and brave, kind and gentle.

He was none of that. He needed the support of his sister. He needed Koushiro and Jyou to help him with homework. He needed his friends to help him do anything. He yelled and shouted at his parents.

He was in any way empathic.

But if there was one quality that Taichi still held, it was love.

He still loved his sister. He still carried protective and love for Hikari.

And even if he denied it himself, he loved his friends. He cared about them, deep within himself. He just didn't realize it.

He was shrouded by a cloud of angry. He believed that the world was against him. But in reality, everyone was with him. For every step he walked and for every word he spoke, he had someone with him. Someone was always with him, supporting him, guiding him, caring for him.

But he just didn't know it.

Wallowing in the puddle of ignorance, Taichi slept.

--------------------

_Where am I supposed to go?_

Koushiro Izumi was clueless. He didn't know anything. He felt as if all the knowledge he had once held had leaked out. He didn't even know if he knew how to speak anymore.

He looked at himself. His orange pajamas were ripped at the knees. He didn't know how that had happened, only that it did. His red hair sprinkled his shoulders. He was shedding. Like a _dog_.

He didn't know what shampoo he had been using to cause it.

He really didn't know any damn thing.

And it was terrifying for him.

He wanted to be in control of his brain. He wanted to know things. He wanted to be fucking _curious_.

Not only was it scaring him, it was so damn frustrating. He was pissed.

Sighing, Koushiro moved off his bed. He couldn't sleep, and there was no point in trying.

It was when he was stretching that he heard the knocks on the door to his apartment. Raising his eyebrow, he cracked open his door.

He saw his mom, who happened to be awake, wake over to the door and open it. Koushiro rolled his eyes when she jumped aside and invited them in, grinning widely.

He felt a smile creep on his face. Surprised, Koushiro touched his lips.

_Why the hell am I smiling?_

He couldn't debate the fact when four teenagers walked inside. Mrs. Izumi directed them to his room, and he jumped back.

In walked Daisuke, who seemed to be leading the. Both he and Yamato, who was right behind the goggle-wearer, wore determined looks. Sora slipped in after them, her face filled with worry. Iori quietly stood beside them.

"What the hell are you doing here at," he turned over to look at his clock, "12:30 in the morning? What if I was asleep?"

Yamato rolled his eyes. "You weren't, so it doesn't really matter, now does it?"

Koushiro stuck out his tongue. Shocked, he covered his mouth. He stepped back.

"What's…what's happening to me? I don't know why I'm doing things, or how they happened. It's as if…my body…my body's acting on its own." He looked into Yamato's eyes. "Yamato…"

Sora stepped forward and pushed me gently into my bed. "Izzy, you need sleep. Just rest."

He moaned at her addressing him by his nickname. "My name's Koush-,"

"I know what your name is. It doesn't matter right now. Just sleep, okay? And do you mind if we spend the night?"

The question was obviously planned, for no one else seemed surprised.

Koushiro nodded. "Uh...sure. Let me just make sure it's okay with Mom."

Daisuke smirked, happily. "Oh, she already said it was okay."

The genius ran his fingers through his fiery red locks. He pointed to the closet. "Sleeping bags and such are over there."

As the others turned their backs to him to retrieve the stuff, he observed himself, surprised. He hadn't felt so comfortable in such a long time.

"Hey, Koushiro?"

He looked up to find Iori's brown eyes looking at him, confused.

"Yeah?"

"I thought you ran away."

Koushiro looked down again. "I did. I came back. I thought Mom or somebody would have told you guys."

"Well, they didn't."

Daisuke had a bundle of blankets and begun to lay them out on the floor. Koushiro raised his eyebrow.

"Mom's allowing you to sleep in a room full of guys?" he asked Sora. She shrugged.

"She didn't say anything. Its okay I guess. Their room _is_ just across the hall."

"Oh god, graphic images." Daisuke covered his eyes in mock disgust. Iori rolled his eyes.

"Oh, grow up," he teased.

Koushiro got up from his bed. "Hey, uh, Sora, if you want, you can take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor."

"Izzy, sit _down_. I'll sleep on the floor, its fine. You need sleep. You can't even remember that you're fucking _smart_. You _need_ sleep."

Koushiro sat back down without protest, even though he felt guilty about it.

Finally, everyone was settled. And as everyone lay down and Yamato turned off the lights, he felt at peace.

Koushiro was glad he could at least know that these people were his friends.

--------------------

_Why is my life so fucking confusing?_

Takeru Takashi couldn't believe it. He touched his lips. He looked around. Everything seemed real. It didn't feel like a dream.

He looked into her ginger eyes, and saw them glimmer. He could have just held her in his arms forever.

He was surprised. Looking into her eyes, he saw something that he had lost.

Hope. Hope radiated from her. Her eyes, her lips, and her entire body spoke only of hope.

Takeru flinched. She pulled him into a hug.

"Please. Don't give up. You're my hope. I need you, Takeru. Please, 'Keru. Hope, just please, just _hope_," she whispered into his ear.

Takeru whimpered. Her voice made him shiver. Everything about her made him _want_ to hope. He took her hands and squeezed them gently.

"No, Hikari. 'Kari, you're my hope. You're the embodiment of hope. I'm supposed to have all the hope in the group, but I couldn't…I've given up, Hikari. But now…I'm not so sure."

She smiled, and he pulled her into a hug. When he released her, she looked at him.

"Takeru…"

"Yeah?"

She looked down, sighing. "Takeru…can I spend the night? Taichi…he'll…uh…"

He shook his head, grinning. "It's fine. I have a spare room, but I should probably call Yamato…"

She nodded. He showed her to the adjacent room, and she smiled gratefully at him. He returned the smile.

As she closed the room behind her, he picked up the phone. Quickly, he dialed the cell phone number that Yamato had made sure he knew by heart.

"Hello?"

"Yamato? It's Takeru."

"Oh hey. Hey, I'm kinda going to be spending the night out. So…um…take care of yourself."

"Oh. Hikari's actually going to be spending the night. And you'll be at Sora's then?"

"Koushiro's. Daisuke, Sora, and Iori are with me. And make sure you don't hurt her."

Takeru sighed. Yamato was, at times, almost as protective of Hikari as Taichi.

"Don't worry, she'll be fine."

"I hope so."

Takeru flinched at his words, and Yamato must of sensed it, because he added, "Takeru…we're all kinda messed up right now. Just _please_ stay positive. We'll get through this. All of us will, together."

Takeru sighed once more. "I know, Yamato, I know. Love ya, bro."

"Love ya too. Toodles."

He hung up. Slowly, he walked to his room.

As he turned off the lights on the way to his bed, he suddenly realized how tired he really was. And all because of one simple kiss.

One simple, yet _exciting_ kiss.

And it was all that worthwhile.

With that, Takeru snored the night away.

--------------------

_How is it that everyone else is getting better, but I feel like I'm getting worse?_

Daisuke Motomiya lay on the ground. He was intrigued by the fact that Koushiro had come home on his own accord. They didn't even have to find him. But he was acting as if someone had wiped his memory clean. But it wasn't his memory. It was all his knowledge. The things that made Koushiro…Koushiro.

It was what made him unique.

And Daisuke liked unique people.

But he knew that he was supposed to be friends with everyone before this famine of depression kicked in. But somehow, he felt that with every person they un-fucked, the closer he got to the group.

It was as if the future of his friendships with everyone depended on getting everyone together. And getting everyone to be slightly normal.

He shifted over to face the other way. He could see Iori's face. His eyes were closed, but Daisuke could tell from his breathing that he wasn't asleep yet. Daisuke looked over at Yamato. The blonde had his arm around Sora, and both were fast asleep.

He sighed. They needed to be alone for sometime. When they went to get someone else tomorrow, he promised himself to allow them to be alone for a while to settle themselves out.

He couldn't believe Iori lied to him.

He looked back at the younger boy. He looked as if he had fallen into a deep slumber, but Daisuke knew better. He guessed that the other brunette had learned to feign sleep after the immense practice.

He rolled his eyes, and distracted himself with the décor in the room. It was seething of computer-ness and technology. It just spoke "Koushiro".

Actually, it just spoke of "Izzy".

Daisuke grinned inwardly. He was surprised that the nickname just…fit so well.

He shut his eyelids, and calmed his mind. He was tired. It had been a long day.

From yelling to Ken, to talking to Takeru. To slapping Mimi, to finding Iori. To speaking with Yamato and Sora, to visiting Koushiro.

And finally, he got some much needed rest.

But he knew there was still so much to do.

Takeru had spoken to Yamato, informing him that Hikari was sleeping over. Meaning that Taichi was no where near her. Meaning that it would easier to talk them both.

So he had to go to Takeru's apartment. There, he could probably talk to Takeru and Hikari, but he was pretty sure that they were alright. From there, they would probably visit Ken. By the time they were done with him, it would have been lunch. If luck was on their side, they may run into Mimi and Jyou somewhere. And then there was Miyako. And finally, Taichi. He would be the toughest.

But then, there was Daisuke. Daisuke shifted once more.

Daisuke didn't feel happy. He felt satisfied that everyone was slowly on the path of recovery. But it was no where near to where they needed to be.

Daisuke squeezed his eyelids. He wanted to fall asleep so badly.

He willed himself to sleep.

And slowly, consciousness slipped from him.

Daisuke was fast asleep

--------------------

But Daisuke Motomiya was wrong.

Takeru Takashi was wrong.

Koushiro Izumi was wrong.

Taichi Yagami was wrong.

Mimi Tachikawa was wrong.

Miyako Inoue was wrong.

Sora Takenouchi was wrong.

Hikari Yagami was wrong.

Yamato Ishida was wrong.

Ken Ichijouji was wrong.

And Iori Hida was wrong.

They were all wrong. They couldn't have been further from the truth.

They all thought that being together would help them. They thought that each other's love and qualities would help them return to reality, to sanity, to normal.

But in actuality, it's themselves.

To be themselves, is all they need to do.

So tell them.

Be yourself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: I do not Digimon. Digimon is owned by the companies that own it. Obviously.

* * *

**Recommended Listening:**

_Be Yourself _by Audio Slave

_Best of You _by The Foo Fighters

_Godspeed _by Anberlin

_Addicted _by Kelly Clarkson

_Where You Will Go _by The Calling

* * *

**/11 o'clock AM, Saturday/**

Daisuke had left, walking briskly behind Koushiro, at ten-thirty that morning. Sora and Yamato had split off to take care of something, but said they'd be back immediately after, hoping that they'd only take half-an-hour at the most.

Iori had kept his silence since they had found him meditating quietly outside. Daisuke had left Koushiro with him, allowing the pair time to reacquaint themselves.

He was pretty sure that, once everything was said and done, they were all going to be strangers on the outside. But hopefully, they'd be able to bring back the person they all loved in all of them.

He shot a glance behind him. Koushiro was muttering under his breath, a good sign, Daisuke thought, and Iori was staring intently at the pavement as if searching it for answers. Which he probably was.

They had been walking for fifteen, maybe twenty, minutes now, and Daisuke's feet were killing him. He had no _idea_ how the hell he was able to walk practically _miles_ to accomplish what he did yesterday. He was still shocked at the fact that he had even _done _any of it. He felt—he felt as if he had done nothing.

Daisuke decided to shrug it off. It wasn't his concern. His priority was to find everyone, bring them to their senses, and make them a group again. He could worry about himself later.

"Hey, Daisuke."

He turned, finding Koushiro pointing to a building. Daisuke almost hit himself for not spotting it sooner. He had been to this house _so many times_. How could he have forgotten it? Koushiro wasn't even in his right state—though admittedly much better than he had been last night—and here he was, pointing out things to Daisuke, the savior, _the leader_. He ran his fingers through his hair, the goggles he wore giving him comfort and reassurance.

Iori stepped in front of him. "Well then. We better get inside."

Nodding, Daisuke took the lead—_nothing new_—and entered the apartment building, the two following him with curiosity.

_Let's hope_—Daisuke snorted internally at his choice of words—_Iori and Koushiro can help me. I couldn't get through to him last night, so what makes everyone think I can get through to him now? _

Daisuke frowned. _For that matter, what makes them think that they'll get through to him at all? Yamato might help, and even maybe Sora, but they're off doing god-knows-what. We need them! Don't they get it? And besides, if I couldn't do it, why should they?_

Appalled at his train of thought, Daisuke sat on his thoughts and squashed them.

_And stay there._

The thoughts seemed to be listening to him.

He was grateful.

* * *

_Mm…five more minutes._

Apparently he had spoken the words out loud, for a voice responded, "You said that five minutes ago, sleepyhead. Now wake up, 'Keru."

Groaning, he turned on his stomach, and lifted the pillow his head had been previously been lying, covering his head. "Too bright. Too early. _I don't wanna_."

The voice giggled. It was a pretty voice. _Pretty voice…Pretty Hikari…_

And suddenly, everything from the previous night rushed back, streams of memories slamming into him. Daisuke yelling at him, Yamato calling him, Hikari kissing him…

_Hikari._ He shot up like a bullet, his eyes frantically searching the room. She was standing beside the bed wearing a fairly amused expression. She tilted her head.

"Awoken finally, eh? Thank god, I was going to go get some water if you didn't wake up this time," she said, smiling. She walked towards the door, reaching for the doorknob. "If I were you, I'd get changed. Iori called. He, Daisuke, and Koushiro are coming over."

It was perhaps a sign of his state that his eyebrow raised. "Iori? _Koushiro_? Isn't he missing?"

"He was, but apparently he had come back home. Daisuke, Yamato, and Sora talked a little sense into him. Iori's gotten over some of his—stuff."

"Stuff," repeated Takeru, not bothering the cover his torso with the sheets. Hikari had seen much more. _Though not necessarily by choice. On either of our parts._ "Stuff," he said again. Gears in his mind were clicking into place, and suddenly he gasped. "Oh no! I can't! You _will not _let them in! You have to leave." When she didn't move, he gave her a disbelieving look. "What are you doing?"

She was staring him. He knew that. But that wasn't what she said. No, she didn't say anything.

Her face hard, she walked over to him and slapped him across the face, hard. Very hard.

"You _jerk!_ What was all of that last night? Was it just some joke to you? You were _smiling_ and you _weren't going to give up_. And now? Look at you! You're acting like it was—like it was all a big _lie_!"

Takeru stared at her for a moment. His hand brushed against the raw skin she had slapped. It burned, but the movement reminded him of a similar one of long ago…

_No time for that now. _

"Hikari—please, no, listen to me." He covered himself in the blanket and stood, grabbing her by the shoulders. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean it like that, really. I'm just not—I'm just not ready to face them, especially Daisuke," he admitted.

Hikari smiled sadly. "It's okay, Takeru. I'm afraid to face Taichi. He's going to be _furious _that I left in the middle of the night. Especially to sneak into your apartment."

"You didn't do much sneaking as much as sniffling." She hit him playfully across the shoulder, her eyes watery. Her voice faltered.

"Takeru—thank you."

He smiled warmly, the momentary dread he had felt still there, but definitely less prominent in the company of the one he was with. "No, Hikari. Thank _you_. I wouldn't be able to do this without you." She blushed but said nothing, exiting the room.

Takeru's smile faltered for a moment, but he pushed his worries aside. For the moment, he could deal with it. He had Hikari. What else did he need?

_Hope._

Takeru grinded his teeth together. _Hope_. Why did it have to haunt him so?

He decided he would have to deal with it. _I think a shower is in order…_

Fortunately for him, Hikari was too busy in the kitchen to notice the noises from the shower as the soap slipped from his shaking hands a grand total of five times.

He was grateful.

* * *

She was bitter. It was probably the only fitting word to describe her mood, but it also felt very inadequate. She had been feeling bitter for the longest time, and yet, it had started to get repetitive.

She reasoned that the best way to describe herself at that moment would have to be—peculiar. Or maybe bittersweet would do. But all she knew was her stomach was rolling, the feeling nauseating. She felt—dirty. She felt as if nothing would _dare _touch her. She could and would only contaminate things and people.

She wasn't human anymore. Or at least, she didn't _feel _human anymore.

Maybe it was the fact that she felt downtrodden and small. Maybe it was the fact that she felt as if something had ripped out her soul.

Or maybe it was because she was no longer a virgin.

She had wished, hoped, _dreamed _that she would share that one gift she had with someone special. She would share the gift of being together, forever, only when they had made that _commitment_.

But then he had come and raped her.

She hadn't told anyone. She didn't think they'd believe her. It been _planned_, she could tell. It had been perfectly set up. And yet, she fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker.

She couldn't decide which was worse—the fact that she felt like an embarrassment and fool or that she had hid her bedroom, locked the doors, and refused to see or talk to anyone.

She thought she had heard voices. They had even sounded familiar. Male voices sounded dark and angry, while the female ones sounded like Sirens, enticing her out of her safe—and dark—room. She had decided along time ago not to give in.

She was strong. She believed it. She _knew _it. Yet, she couldn't act on it. She felt weak and small.

She was squashed under all the pressure and the stress—her friends had their own problems. They shouldn't have had to deal with hers.

So she didn't bother them. She went on with her own life, hiding from society under the blankets.

Her vocal cords still were sore from their lack of use. She had tried using them the other day, just to find that they _hurt_ as the air traveled through them.

But the pain was welcoming. She tried and tried, but they wouldn't work.

She gave up. She'd be doing that a lot lately.

She knew that what she was doing was wrong. She knew that she was letting _him_ take over her life, not letting her be _happy_ and _free_ from his control.

But here she was, lying in her bed, staring at the ceiling. The voices from outside her prison—her room—had begun again, as they usually did when the window suddenly became unbearable with light and she needed to close the blinds.

She used to be _vibrant _and _lively_. She used to annoy everyone around her with her optimistic attitude about life. And there she was, dark, tried, and overly depressed.

She hated it.

But she couldn't do anything about it. And Miyako hated _that_ almost as much.

Maybe even more.

She hated it.

But sometimes, the mere _ability _to _feel_ the emotion, whether it hatred or love, it was slightly relieving.

Miyako was grateful.

* * *

He was leading her, his thumb and forefinger wrapped around her wrist. He smelled so _good_, and she found herself being distracted by his hair.

She didn't know what had made her suddenly appreciate and take in his appearance and his manner. Whatever it was, she liked it though. She needed to be grateful.

Sora thought she caught a whiff of pumpkin pie as Yamato breathed out. His blue eyes caught hers, and she felt a small smile slide up her face.

She felt like a teenage again. After everything she had gone through, from her parent's divorce, to everything else, she had _grown_, and so much faster than she should have. It was nice to be able to be a _kid _and maybe even _normal_, if only for a little bit.

He smiled at her, turning his face to line up with hers. He leaned down, foreheads touching. She closed her eyes.

"I love you, you know."

"I know."

He kissed her forehead before taking her hands in his. She nodded slowly, following him as he made his way towards the building.

"Are we meeting up with them here?"

"Nah, we'll find them later. And with company," he said smiling. She raised eyebrow, but he just shook his head and ushered her through the door.

When she walked in, Sora felt her throat close up.

They had entered a flower shop, not unlike her own. She could identify the flowers, each unique, each with a different smell, a different look. Her feet took her in front of a group of them, her fingers lacing the petals. Sora felt her eyes watering, the emotion of _her_ flowers, her beauties in her fingers again, after so long, after so much pain—

Her arms were around him in a flash, her tears staining his shirt; he was comforting her, whispering soothingly in her ear—

Someone cleared their throat, and she froze, breaking away, wiping away her tears. A woman with frizzy brown hair stood shocked for a moment before breaking into a smile.

"Yamato! Sora! It's been too long!"

Jun Motomiya grinned at the redhead before hugging her. Cheerfully, as Sora stood their blinking, she embraced Yamato as well, then headed back behind counter.

Sora sat on the feelings of jealousy as they came creeping into her. _Not the time, not now, and she has a boyfriend anyways…_

Jun smiled brilliantly. "So, what brings you here?" she asked, her head tilted to the side.

Glancing at Sora, Yamato cleared his throat. "Um, actually, we—I mean, I—" he corrected at the look Sora shot him, "I was wondering, well, whether you'd come with us?"

The brunette looked confused for a moment. "Where? And why?"

"We're meeting up with Daisuke and some other of our friends for a bit of—well, lets just say we're going to have a talk."

"A talk?" she asked, eyeing them suspiciously.

"Yes, a talk," interrupted Sora, starting to get a little annoyed. _We don't have time for this…we need to talk to Mimi and Miyako and Jyou and Ken…_

"Okay, that seems fine, just give me a moment," she said with a shrug before she disappeared behind the door at the back.

Yamato raised an eyebrow at Sora but said nothing.

She was grateful.

* * *

Iori knocked on the door, his other palm sweaty against his leg.

Koushiro stood behind him, whispering slightly under his breath.

Daisuke tapped his foot impatiently, his arms crossed over his chest.

Hikari answered the door, biting her lip in anxiety.

Takeru stood behind her, his eyes closed and his heart beating quickly.

Iori smiled to his friend, her eyes glimmering in delight of the company. "Hey, Hikari."

"Iori!" She engulfed him in a hug, and startled, Iori hugged her back.

Daisuke chuckled from behind them. "Nice to see you again, 'Keru." The blonde shuffled nervously.

"Look—Daisuke, I'm—"

The goggle-head shook his head. "Don't bother, man. We're good?" he asked softly.

"We're good," said Takeru, smiling. The pair shook hands.

Hikari, grinning widely, gives Koushiro a once over before embracing him as well. Iori smiled inwardly.

_She needs people…look at her, salvation in everyone…_

Hikari's smile light up the room, to Iori's opinion, and Takeru was noticing it. He looked as if he wanted hide away, but every time Hikari smiled again, he'd gain confidence.

Iori smiled outwardly.

_Maybe we _can_ get through this…_

Takeru ushered them inside, since they were still standing in the doorway, making them sit down. Hikari went off to the kitchen where she brought lemonade out for them. Daisuke raised an eyebrow at it but didn't say anything.

Iori was grateful.

* * *

Blood, red and warm, dripped, from the pieces of glass, onto his hands. Scars and scabs pulsed, the pain starting to numb down. He sighed, running the bleeding hand through his hair.

If he had a heart, it would probably be aching, killing him from the inside. If he had a heart, he would be crying, tears running down his face in the replacement of blood. If he had a heart, he would understand, he would be smiling, he would find himself _happy_.

If Taichi had a heart, he wouldn't be sitting on his bedroom floor, staring with empty eyes at the glass, his ghost of a face reflecting back to him. His hand wouldn't be balled into fists, hoping for something, or maybe even _someone_ to punch.

He wanted her back.

She was _his_ sister; she was the _only_ person left he felt anything remotely like love towards. Taichi knew he had to fight for her. She couldn't just be stolen away from those liars, those cheats, those he used to call _friends_.

They'd use her, they'd treat her like trash.

Hikari would never be the same.

If he had to-do list, if he had been slightly organized again, the first thing on the list would be to make sure Hikari was happy.

And she wasn't going to be happy with them. Taichi was sure of it. They couldn't protect her or take care of her like he could. He was going to leave. And she was going to come with him.

She was his sister, and he knew she loved him. Perhaps stupidly, perhaps against her better judgment sometimes, but Taichi knew that she'd follow him.

He needed the company, if nothing else. But he _did_ care for her, his sister, his family.

Truthfully, he didn't know what he would do if she hadn't love him.

But Hikari _did _love him. Or he really and truly believed she did.

And for that, Taichi was grateful.

* * *

**Notes: **Thanks to The Digital Gate as usual for beta-ing.

Sorry it took so long. Life is hectic and busy. I can't promise I'll get the next chapter in the next month. But I can promise that I _will_ finish this story.

Thank you for all the feedback! I love reviews. (hinthint)


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